


The Rise and Fall of Hannibal the Cannibal

by RedFive



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Copious amounts of alcohol - Freeform, Costume Party, Dubious Consent, Fluff and Crack, Halloween, Hannibal Has Zero Chill, Hannictober, James Bond References, M/M, Sexual Tension, blackout drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 21:56:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8177515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedFive/pseuds/RedFive
Summary: Everyone is having a great time at the FBI Halloween party except for two sullen, love sick dolts by the name of Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham. Alana to the rescue? Maybe. Maybe not. Lots of laughs. Some mild angst. But most importantly...ALL OF THE SNARK and occasional James Bond references.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [confusedkayt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/confusedkayt/gifts).



"What are you supposed to be, Hannibal? This is a costume party," the black cat said in Alana's stern voice.  She wrinkled her painted nose at his pedestrian brown suit and simple, barn red pocket square. Even under ordinary circumstances, the ensemble was reserved and out of step with his usual aesthetic.   
  
"A serial killer," he said with a smug smile. "I hear they look just like everyone else." He leaned closer to whisper sweet murder in her ear and allowed genuine menace to creep into his voice. "I've killed twenty men in as many months, my dear."  
  
Alana shoved him aside with a laugh. "That's terrible, Hannibal. Where's your knife then?"  
  
"I prefer to use my hands," he said and grabbed one of hers. He stroked her lifeline with his thumb and watched her expression flicker between pleasure and confusion. It was another seed sown in his garden, which might be of use one day. He could not say whether the fruit that seed bore would be sweet or poisonous, but there was room for all things in a well prepared feast.  
  
"You're incorrigible," she said as she took her hand back, "and also cheating."  
  
Alana plucked the headband off her head, and before he could protest, Doctor Hannibal Lecter was sporting a pair of fluffy cat ears inside the hallowed halls of the FBI. If ever caught, he was certain this would be the first chapter in Freddie Lounds's inevitable book, The Rise and Fall of Hannibal the Cannibal. "Alana," he groused, "I could not possibly-,"  
  
"Oh, stop it, Hannibal! This is supposed to be a party, and you look like I just killed your mother," she said then froze. "Oh God, Hannibal, I'm so sorry. I forgot...,"  
  
Hannibal adjusted his tie and tried to look unfluffed. It was not the deaths of his parents that bothered him; pity was a far more uncomfortable irritant. "Where is good Will this evening? Did you manage to convince him to come as I asked?" he said changing the subject before anyone within earshot could pry into is familial affairs. Few people knew about his past, and he preferred to keep it that way.  
  
Alana's smile at the mention of Will did something unpleasant to Hannibal's innards. He did not like to think about how her feelings would affect his long term plans for Will. Eventually, their reliance on each other would have to be dealt with, but it would be a shame to kill her. He actually liked her. She was interesting (just not as interesting as some others were). Ah well, all that could wait. This was supposed to be a party after all.   
  
"He's in a tux hanging out by the food so he doesn't have to be social," Alana said.  
  
"A tux?" Hannibal repeated in disbelief. On the other side of the room by a long table stacked high with carcinogenic trash, there was indeed a man in an ill-fitting tuxedo who might be Will. "Who is he supposed to be?"  
  
"007."  
  
"Nooo," Hannibal said shocked. The suave, charismatic MI6 agent could not be more unlike the shivering, sloppy profiler, but perhaps that is who Will **_wished_**  he could be. "I really must introduce that boy to my tailor. Bond would never be caught in such a train wreck."  
  
Alana chuckled. "Be that as it may, I'd appreciate it if you went over there and talked to him. He's not having any fun, and I think he blames me from dragging him here."  
  
"It was my idea, but he would not listen _to me_ ," Hannibal grumbled.  
  
"Exactly. So as my accomplice, isn't he your responsibility too?" Alana said and elbowed him in Will's direction.  
  
"As my patient he should be my _**sole**_  responsibility."  
  
Alana raised an eyebrow. "Why Doctor Lecter, that sounds like jealously."  
  
Hannibal turned away from her before she got a hard enough look at the truth of her words. He was jealous, exceedingly so. Will Graham was the most insufferable, stubborn, and fascinating creature he had ever had the misfortune to meet, and if that slippery little stoat would only just **_listen_**  to him, maybe one or both of them could finally get some sleep at night.  
  
Alana laid her hand on his shoulder, but Hannibal did not turn around.  
  
"Try talking to him like he's your friend and not your patient tonight. Will just wants someone to believe in him. Let him be James Bond for you."  
  
There was something strange in the tone of her voice, something **_knowing._** How much did Alana suspect about his feelings for Will?  "Are you profiling me, Doctor Bloom?" he asked and looked over his shoulder at her.  
  
"Like you've never done it before," Alana said and rolled her eyes. "Now shoo, cat, before I spritz you with a spray bottle."

Hannibal groan and scratched his scalp beneath the headband. "Must I, Alana?"  
  
"Doctor's orders, Lecter."  
  
Despite his two degrees to her one, the once proud Hannibal Lecter obeyed the command of his former TA and began the long, torturous walk off a short plank as he crossed the room. "How far I've fallen," he muttered and pondered how much farther he would fall still.  
  
Blissfully, the only person to make any comment about Hannibal's accoutrement, was Mr. Price who was dressed as a T-Rex in a hula skirt and had no room to talk.  
  
Hannibal passed through the gauntlet of agents and selfie sticks and finally arrived at Will's side. "Good evening, Will," he said.  
  
Will turned around with his cheeks full of food and immediately began to spit it all up.  
  
Hannibal leapt back before any errant crumbs of yellow cake and green goo got on his clothing. Plain as it was, this suit was custom made by a tailor in New York. Hannibal did not need whatever the hell THAT was ruining it. The doctor stepped around the mess until he could comfortably pat Will on the back without risk of exposure. "There, there," he cooed. "Are you alright? Nothing else stuck in your throat?"  
  
Will shook his head but neither coughed nor verbalized his response.  
  
"I need to hear you say it, Will, to be sure your airway is clear."  
  
"I'm fine," Will croaked to the doctor's relief, but then added to Hannibal's immediate dismay "but those ears," Will said as he coughed up the rest of the vile junk food.  
  
Damn Alana and her meddling. This was a disaster. Instead of making Will feel strong and valued, Hannibal had nearly killed him and now stood before him humiliated. "Doctor Bloom," Hannibal explained in cold anger.  
  
Will straightened and did not step away from him as Hannibal continued to rub his back. "I just wasn't expecting it. Do you mind if I...," he began to ask, but backed down before making his intentions clear. His cheeks, Hannibal noticed, were growing pink and hot.  
  
"You may do as you wish, Will," the doctor granted. He was too curious to say otherwise.   
  
The special agent reached out with trembling hands and adjusted the lopsided headband on the crown of Hannibal's head. "They're so fluffy," Will said sounding childlike and amused.  
  
Hannibal pulled Will's hand away from the cat ears because for a moment the absurd notion to lean-in like a fucking cat would had popped into his head. Will never initiated contact between them, and it had almost been more than he could resist. However, the FBI was too dangerous a place to allow himself to get carried away.  
  
Now he held Will's hand in his own, which was nearly as good. "I always thought of you as more of a dog person," Hannibal said as he rubbed Will's hand. Unfortunately, unlike Alana, Will seemed nonplused by his advance.   
  
"I'm allergic to cats," he said with a huff and turned his eyes to the ground.  
  
"Oh." Hannibal said. Disappointment made him mute.  
  
They stood in silence holding hands until Will cleared his throat.  
  
"That wouldn't be a problem if I adopted you though," Will whispered without raising his head.  
  
Hannibal froze. Huh?  What. Was. That. Was Will...was Will Graham FLIRTING with him!?! God Almighty, Mischief Night indeed.  
  
On a hunch, Hannibal sniffed the air and picked up the smell of olives. He dropped Will's hand and shoved his own into his pockets no longer in a mood to return hus flirtations. So that was it, was it? Will had gone all-in on the Bond character and gotten himself drunk on martinis before Hannibal's arrival. Another typical night chasing Will Graham.   
  
"What were you eating before I startled you, and will you promise never to eat it again?" Hannibal asked hoping to change the subject. He was annoyed and hurt by the knowledge that it was vodka moving Will to these romantic overtures--cheap, government vodka no less.  
  
Will seemed not to notice or care about the sudden chill in the air. "Twinkies," he said and reached for another while his doctor and self-appointended nutritionist watched in open disgust.  
  
"Since when are Twinkies green?"  
  
"Since Ghostbusters came out," Will said with a shrug as if that explained everything. "I think it's supposed to be ectoplasm."  
  
"I understand literally none of this, Will."  
  
"That's not true," the profiler said as he bit into the Twinkie. "You understood the articles. Maybe a verb here or there."  
  
_Brat!_ That settled it; Will Graham was an utter brat in addition to being cruel, heartless, and irritatingly attractive in that tuxedo (ill-fitting or not.)   
  
When Will finished the Twinkie, he sucked his fingers clean of the green goo while Hannibal watched. Oblivious to the havoc it wreaked on his poor doctor, Will reached for a third Twinkie before Hannibal stopped him.  
  
"Enough of that," Hannibal snapped. "Those things will kill you."  
  
"I can think of worse ways to go," Will sighed, no doubt thinking of his current caseload, and dropped the Twinkie back onto the tray. Dark shadows and sorrow moved into his eyes.   
  
The doctor immediately regretted his anger and threaded Will's arm through his own. What had Alana said? 'Let him be James Bond for you.' Let him escape himself for just one evening in other words. Hannibal sighed. Compassion was an inconvenient business.  "Come away with me, James, and let us have a drink," he whispered into Will's ear and let this accent thicken since every good Bond needed his own Soviet Femme Fatale. "Tell me, do you prefer your martinis shaken or stirred?"

Will leaned against Hannibal’s shoulder. “Shaken,” he said in a Scottish accent. His eyes were hazy but happy with liquor. 

Hannibal smiled. At least Will had gotten that part right. It would have been pity to waste an evening with any of those Britsh Bonds although Craig had not been too terrible he supposed.

* * *

 

  
Hannibal drove Will home that night and helped him undress. He also managed to get the difficult boy to drink two glasses of water before he passed out although Hannibal knew very well that a mere 12 ounces of liquid was not nearly enough to undo all the damage Will had inflicted upon himself. The young profiler would be vomiting ectoplasm for days after tonight, and Hannibal had no intention of sticking around for that show. Let Alana or Beverly play nursemaid for the second act since they were the ones that had allowed Will near that all-you-can-eat buffet of bad decisions in the first place.   
  
For now, Hannibal took his rest in a chair and watched the object of his fascination sleep as soundly as the dead. There would be no sleeping walking for this troubled boy tonight. Will had consumed enough alcohol to sedate an elephant.  
  
Moonlight squeezed through the dirt stained windows and got tangled up in Will's hair. A pity he had not thought to bring his sketchbook. It was beautiful to behold, all too beautiful.  
  
Maybe Hannibal was drunk too or maybe just exhausted because he couldn't help but think about the other ways this night might have ended as he looked at the empty half of Will's bed. If Will had not been blackout drunk might they have still returned here? Probably not, but if they had...

Illusions of what might have been danced in front of Hannibal as versions of himself and Will stumbled through the doorway pawing at each other like teenagers. The dogs barked. Will would growl at the dogs to shut them up and at Hannibal to get his pants off faster. It was chaotic and messy. It was raw.   
  
In the real world, Hannibal pressed the heel of his palm to his growing arousal. The digital clock on the nightstand read 1:16; it was past time to go. There was no need to torture himself anymore tonight.

Hannibal slipped out of the chair with a groan and knelt at edge of the bed. He stroked the deep lines on Will's forehead caused by the horrors of his job. Will never stirred.  
  
Hannibal's fingers drifted into Will's hair and knotted themselves in his curls. He bent forward and placed a kiss on the profiler's temple. "Good night, Will," he whispered. "Come see me when you feel better."  
  
Before leaving, Hannibal slipped Alana's headband onto Will's head and snapped a picture with his phone. The next time Will annoyed him, he was going to sell this picture to Freddie Lounds.  
  
The flash had woken some of the dogs. One in particular made his displeasure known by coming up behind Hannibal and growling in his ear.  "Outstayed my welcome have I?" He looked over his shoulder and was not surprised to discover it was the one named Winston. Dogs were dim creatures in his experience, but Winston had always shown himself to be above average in intelligence and generally avoided taking food directly from Hannibal's hand whenever he looked in on Will's dogs.  
  
Hannibal rose silently and walked towards the door. Winston followed close behind practically snapping at his heels until Hannibal snapped back around and barked back.   
  
Winston yelped and back-pedaled while Hannibal stood over him laughing. "Look after your master, Winston. You wouldn't want any **_more_** monsters getting past the front door," he said as he departed.

**Author's Note:**

> This one was all for you, Kayt. ;-) Thanks for your friendship and most excellent hostessing of the rewatch parties.


End file.
